School Books and Sticky Buns
by darthsydious
Summary: Pure, unadulterated fandom fluff. Matilda's first day of school. Lestrade, Mycroft and Sherlock want to see her off too! And hey, first time the house is empty again for John and Molly!


"Matilda, come on, you'll be late for school," Molly called down the hall. John seated himself at the breakfast table,

"Well, well, a full breakfast, what's the occasion?" Molly smiled, bending to kiss him. "Mmm good morning," he smiled against her lips.

"It is her first day in school, why not have a little celebration?" John lifted the lid off the plate on the table

"Kippers too, lovely!" he crowed, and began serving himself. The front door banged open, hitting the wall. Sherlock stood there in his pyjamas and robe, dark curls sticking at all angles, clearly having slept. The case he and John finished the day before had left him rather exhausted and nothing had stirred for almost twenty-four hours in 221b.

"Sherlock!" Molly said, "Is there a case?"

"No," he replied, seating himself at the table near John. Molly shook her head, setting a plate down for him. John kicked him under the table and Sherlock looked up at his favorite pathologist. "Thank you Molly," he said. "Any tea?"

"Yes, on the counter," she said starting for the hallway. There was a tapping on the open door frame, and they all turned.

"Mycroft!" John and Sherlock both said.

"Please, come in, can I get you anything?" Molly asked

"Good morning Mrs. Watson, John, Sherlock," Mycroft greeted them, "No, nothing for me, thank you," his gaze flitted over the table. "Oh…are those your home-made cinnamon rolls?" Molly did her best to fight a smile.

"I'll get you a plate," she said, and gestured to one of the empty chairs. "Please, take a seat, there's coffee and tea,"

"Breaking the diet, brother-dear?" Sherlock asked. Mycroft affixed him with his usual glare, which Sherlock ignored.

"Ok. I missed something," John said in-between bites of kippers and toast. "Why are you here Mycroft?"

"Obviously, its Matilda's first day of school." Sherlock shook out of the newspaper. John glanced from the open paper to Mycroft quietly cutting a cinnamon bun.

"And…?" he asked finally. The paper lowered.

"And what?"

"What does my daughter's first day of school have to do with _your_ brother?" Sherlock lowered the paper, exasperated.

"Matilda's first day of school is what Molly has been planning for since last year. Mycroft has had a weakness for sweets since he was a child, an insatiable appetite for anything homemade to the point that he forces himself to go on a strict diet from month to month. Molly, being the mother and woman that she is, would see fit to send off her firstborn stuffed with all of her favorite foods including beans on toast, kippers, fried hashed potatoes, _and_ her home-made sticky rolls."

"Are you saying Mycroft came only for my wife's sticky buns?" John asked, chuckling to himself afterwards at the double entendre. He paused, and Sherlock rolled his eyes at the obvious joke.

"Don't be silly. Mycroft also likes Matilda and wants to make certain to buy his security staff enough time to install the cameras in the proper places for her walk to school."

Before John could answer there was another knock on the door, and there was Greg, a wrapped package under his arm.

"The door was open, so I just let myself in," Molly was back in the kitchen again.

"Good morning, Greg! Sit down," she pressed his cheek good morning.

"Oh I don't want to intrude, I just wanted to give Matilda a little present for her first day of school," Sherlock frowned.

"Is that customary?" he asked John. He shrugged

"Sometimes,"

"I'll go and fetch her, John, get him a plate,"

"Molly went a bit overboard," he said, nodding for Greg to take a seat. "But I won't complain!" Mycroft discreetly took another pastry from the plate.

Molly returned, Matilda in tow. She set her backpack down, hurrying to the table.

"Good morning Da," she kissed his cheek,

"Hey Button,"

"Morning Matilda-" Greg said

"Mm," Mycroft and Sherlock both mumbled, one buried in the newspaper, the other working on his third pastry. (Honestly Mycroft wondered if he could arrest Molly for having him break his diet like this…or hire her to do the baking at his house.) The youngest Watson hurried around the table, kissing Greg on the cheek, then Mycroft and finally Sherlock, who lowered his paper and bent over so she could reach him. Molly took the kitchen stool, bringing it over between John and Sherlock for her, patting the seat.

"Come on Tilly, have your breakfast and then Da and I will see you to school,"

"Are you nervous?" Greg asked.

"No," Matilda bit into her toast, "Da and Ma say that there isn't anything for me to worry about,"

"There isn't," Sherlock said. "Most children are stupid, so topping everyone in her class won't be too difficult, and classmates are not terribly creative when it comes to bullying new students, I recall Mycroft and I were called a limited number of things, what was it they always called us?"

"Egg-heads," he replied, swallowing quickly.

"You just come to me, if they give you any problems," Greg said, and John smiled a little.

"Matilda knows how to defend herself," John said, quite proud of this.

"Yes, Sherlock, do remind me to thank you for teaching my daughter how to break a person's nose," Molly said, pinching him hard as she set his tea down.

"Ow! Shouldn't she be able to defend herself?" he asked.

"Of course, but I don't think it's proper a five year old knowing where the pressure points are on a body and how to – Oh never mind," Molly sighed, seeing she wasn't getting anywhere. "Matilda, you will remember not all conflicts must end in broken noses."

"She knows," John said, looking at their daughter. She looked back at him, taking a bite of food.

"Yes Da," she said and he nodded. Matilda spied the package by Lestrade's elbow. "What's that Uncle Greg?"

"It's your present for your first day of school," he said. "Would you like it now or later?" Matilda looked to her parents, who nodded. She jumped off her seat and ran around the table, taking the parcel.

"Did you forget something?" John asked.

"Thank you Uncle Greg!" she hugged him before turning her attention back to the shiny wrapping paper.

"Lunchbox," Sherlock said behind the paper. Everyone glared at him and Molly and John both slapped the back of his head. Matilda didn't seem offended, but went on unwrapping it with as much excitement as before.

"Ooo!" she crowed, pulling it out of the box. "I love it!" she said, and she was sincere.

"Look in the front pocket," Greg said, feeling chuffed.

"It's-" Molly's hand clamped over Sherlock's mouth before John had a chance to slap him again.

"If you don't stop I'm going to toss you out before you've had any tea," Molly threatened. Sherlock only quirked an eyebrow. Matilda dug through the Velcro pocket until she latched onto what was inside.

"Tickets!" she squealed. "Ma look!" she waved a pair of tickets up high in the air.

"What's it for?" John asked and Molly voiced her eagerness.

"Matilda the Musical," Greg said sheepishly. Sherlock rolled his eyes and Matilda gasped delightedly. She'd not been to a West End show yet, so she was delighted to learn not only of the opportunity to go, but that the musical bore her name.

"You and whoever you'd like to take you get to go this Saturday," Greg said. She turned to her parents, who nodded to her, so she looked back at the DI.

"I want you to take me," she said. Greg seemed embarrassed then. It wasn't his intention to take her to a musical; he just wanted her to have an extra special time.

"If you like," he said, and she kissed his cheek, thanking him again.

"I'll put them away safe, until this weekend," Molly said and placed them on the counter in an envelope.

"We better get going," John said, looking at his watch. "Just five past eight now," The breakfast things were put away and Matilda dashed to her room to fetch her uniform jacket.

Matilda gave one final wave to her parents before hurrying into school, knowing exactly where her classroom was thanks to Uncle Mycroft emailing her a schematic of the building.

"She'll be fine," he said, seeing Molly's worried expression. They could see her in the doorway. A boy in her class was introducing himself to her. "Hey-" Molly squeezed his hand.

"What was that, Mr. Watson?" he chuckled, nodding. He slid his arm around her waist, squeezing gently.

"Nothing, Mrs. Watson," they waited until Matilda was out of sight before turning down the sidewalk and hailing a cab.

"Come on, let's see if Mycroft has left any sticky buns for us."

"You just want to see if the house is empty," John said with a wicked smile.

"Very perceptive, Doctor Watson," Molly replied slyly.

The cab deposited them outside of 221 Baker St and the appropriate funds were handed through. With a hurried glance they saw Mycroft's car was gone, as was Greg's. The sounds of Sherlock fussing around his flat could be heard behind the door so John lost no time scooping Molly up in his arms halfway up the stairs, booting open the door to their apartment and kicking it ceremoniously shut before bolting to their bedroom, the two of them giggling madly.

Sherlock heard stomping up the stairs and wondered if Matilda's going to school affected Molly more than he had assumed it would. That is until he heard John stampede up behind her, the two of them laughing in that idiotic way when they were about to make love. He rolled his eyes angrily, taking a package of earplugs out of the plastic bag; he stuffed them in, grumbling to himself about the poor set up of his living room being directly beneath their bedroom. Blasted thin walls.


End file.
